Forty
years ago today, Sergio Leone’s Once Upon
a Time in the West had its world première in Rome, an event which, it goes
without saying, should not be allowed to pass without notice, even though that
is precisely what seems to have happened throughout this anniversary year.
Whereas 2005 saw the opening of the Once
Upon a Time in Italy...: The Westerns of Sergio Leone exhibition at the
Autry Museum in Los Angeles, followed, in 2006, by commemorative events marking
the fortieth anniversary of The Good, the
Bad and Ugly, and a season of Italian Westerns at the 2007 Venice film
Festival, 2008 has come and (almost) gone with not so much as a screeching
train whistle sounded in celebration of what is often called “the greatest
Western ever madeâ€.
There
was, of course, a showing of the newly restored version of the film at the
Samuel Goldwyn Theater in L.A. in June, which was billed by the Academy of
Motion Picture Arts and Sciences as marking “the 40th anniversary of
the film’s 1968 release in Italyâ€, though the fact the restoration had already
been shown at the Rome Film Festival in October, 2007, suggested that this was
more a matter of convenient timing than a committed attempt to celebrate the
Great Event. Even when the restoration played, as part of the London Film Festival,
to a packed house in Leicester Square this October, it was left to Sir
Christopher Frayling to make the point in his introduction that it was in fact the film’s fortieth
anniversary. He could also, had he wished, have drawn attention to the irony of
Paramount Pictures paying what one can safely assume was considerably more than
a fistful of dollars to restore a film which they themselves had butchered in
the first place (giving it, in the memorable words of films & filming’s David Austen, “the appearance of having been
savaged by a rampant lawn-mowerâ€), but was, of course, far too polite to do so.
While
such screenings may certainly be considered better than a poke in the eye with
a pointed stick, they nonetheless fall far short of what might – and ought – to have been done. Open-air
showings in Monument Valley, for instance, exhibitions in AlmerÃa and at
Cinecittà Studios, a special concert to mark both the film’s release and the recent eightieth birthday of
composer Ennio Morricone, the carving of Charles Bronson’s face into Mount
Rushmore – to name only the most obvious.
In a
way, however, this muted (or, to be blunt, virtually non-existent) response
mirrors the film’s initial reception in 1968-1969. In Italy, it made a
respectable box-office showing, though less so than The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. In France, it proved hugely
popular, running in Paris for two years. But in America, the shortened (by some
twenty-odd minutes) version took only one million dollars before being
consigned to cinematic Boot Hill, the words of Time magazine’s verdict carved on its marker: “Tedium in the
Tumbleweedâ€. Audiences expecting another installment in the Dollars series were disappointed by the film’s deliberate pace and
relative lack of action and humour (to say nothing of the fact that the story,
post-Paramount cuts, didn’t make much sense). And critics, many of whom were
hostile to the very idea of Italian Westerns, unwisely chose to dismiss the
film instead of reserving judgment (as the aforementioned David Austen did)
until a more complete version was made available. Nor were they prepared to
accept what Christopher Frayling terms Leone’s decision to collide “fairy tale
images of the West with the real thing,†which, as John Gillett darkly put it
in the Monthly Film Bulletin,
suggested “that Leone has set out to make a Western for Art.â€
Today,
of course, Once Upon a Time in the West
has completed a comeback only marginally less improbable than George Foreman’s second
tenure as heavyweight champion of the world, regularly featuring in lists of
the Top Ten Westerns of all time, and finding an echo in films as diverse as
they are generally unworthy (Once Upon a
Time in Mexico, Once Upon a Time in
China, Once Upon a Time in the
Midlands), to say nothing of being championed by such notables as John
Boorman, Martin Scorsese, George Lucas, John Carpenter, and Quentin Tarantino.
As Boorman so eloquently put it, “In Once
Upon a Time in the West the Western reaches its apotheosis. Leone’s title
is a declaration of intent and also his gift to America of its lost fairy
stories. This is the kind of masterpiece that can occur outside trends and
fashion. It is both the greatest and the last Western.â€
Next
year will see a double-bill of Leone anniversaries – the eightieth of his birth
and the twentieth of his death – and it is to be hoped that fitting
commemorative events will be arranged to mark both occasions (as well as the
release of Once Upon a Time in the West
outside Italy). At present, Sir Christopher Frayling, the man who has done more
for Leone’s reputation than anyone else, is in discussion with the Italian
Cultural Institute in London to arrange a Leone symposium, complete with
exhibition and screenings, for April, the month of Leone’s death. And surely it
would take little effort to persuade Ennio Morricone to arrange a special
concert in honour of his greatest collaborator and friend? And then there’s
Rome, and AlmerÃa, and Arizona . . . In the Chinese calendar, 2009 is
designated the Year of the Ox, but among aficionados of Sergio Leone, the
Western, and great cinema, it will be surely be known as the Year of the Lion .
. .
Cinema Retro London correspondent Adrian Smith reports that Disney's just-released limited edition DVD of Walt Disney's 1964 classic The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh has already sold out and is commanding premium prices on the collector's circuit. The DVD contains the three-part series starring Patrick McGoohan as well as a feature film that was edited from the various episodes. We don't know if Disney has any plans to reissue the title anytime soon, though our guess is that they will - this time as a "non-limited edition" title. It's good to see that public interest hasn't waned over the decades for this Disney classic.Â
I caught up with Clint Eastwood's Gran Torino at Robert DeNiro's Tribeca Screening Room in New York the other night. I have to admit I was optimistic, given the fine reviews the movie has received. While in production, it didn't sound very promising. The title alone is rather vague with its bland reference to a 1972 car, which I learned to drive in (Not very well at the time, which may have explained my skepticism). However, Eastwood is a master at surprising the audience. Million Dollar Baby came out of nowhere with no fanfare and a title that made it sound like an old Busby Berkeley musical. Yet, it received universal critical acclaim and won the major Oscars that year. Gran Torino is a similar experience. Shot in a little over a month with very little publicity, this is the film that lured Eastwood back to acting after stating that Million Dollar Baby would be his last time before the cameras. Good thing he had a change of heart, as this is the performance of his career. Having grown up (literally) on Eastwood's films - and having been an childhood addict of the Leone Dollars films - I have always been an admirer of the iconic star. However, with few exceptions, I would not say any of his performances have been worthy of Oscar consideration. Certainly, he earned his nominations for his superb work in Unforgiven and Million Dollar Baby. However, I always felt that -like John Wayne and Cary Grant- he was such a towering screen presence that audiences would never be able to accept him playing an everyday character like the guy next door. In Gran Torino he proves otherwise and delivers a performance of great depth and skill. He should be the front runner for the Best Actor Oscar, but his failure to nab a Golden Globe nomination may not bode well for the honor.
The film finds Eastwood, who refreshingly always plays his true age, as Walt Kowalski, a grumpy recently-widowed man who lives in a suburban Michigan neighborhood that is gradually being overtaken by Hmong immigrants. Kowalski, who worked fifty years on a Ford assembly line, can barely hide his disgust at feeling like a stranger in his own land. He mutters racial insults every time his neighbors set foot on is property and seems content to seal off the world and live out the rest of his days sitting on his front porch drinking cheap Pabst Blue Ribbon beer and smoking cigarettes. When some Hmong gangbangers try to forcibly recruit his teenage neighbor Thao (charismatic Bee Vang), Walt reluctantly intervenes, thus making him a hero to his grateful neighbors. He wants no part of them and shuts out their attempts to show their gratitude. When Thao is forced into making an ill-fated attempt to steal Walt's prized Gran Torino, the family makes the young man redeem his honor by having him work at odd-jobs at Walt's house. A tense relationship ensues, but ultimately Walt sees that the sensitive young man is doomed if he falls under the spell of the gangbangers. He gradually becomes a mentor and father figure to the young man and his older sister (superbly played by Ahney Her) and before long, Walt is a welcome, if awkward presence in his neighbor's house. Eastwood milks the subtle humor of this situation for all it's worth as he tries to open his eyes and accept the value of another culture. He realizes the Hmong are good people with the same values he has, but they are being terrorized by wayward members of their own community. When the threat becomes so implicit that it will destroy the young man he has mentored, Walt decides to take drastic action to resolve the situation in a highly creative manner.Â
Eastwood the director is at the top of his game here and does not spare Eastwood the actor any semblance of vanity. Almost defiantly proud of his 78 years of age, Eastwood has the camera focus in intense close-ups on his face, making it appear like a weather-beaten sail. The excellent script by novice screenwriter Nick Schenk has many parallels to John Wayne's final film The Shootist - and I'm amazed that no other critic I'm aware of has yet to point them out. The homage is certainly intentional. Consider:
In both films, an aging tough guy forms an unlikely friendship with a young man (Ron Howard in The Shootist) who is being lured into a wayward life style.
There is the presence of a strong female family member who encourages him to act as a mentor. (In the Wayne film, Lauren Bacall played Howard's mother). In Gran Torino, the role is given to Thao's sister.
In both films, the aging hero just wants to be left alone to live out his remaining days in solitude, but he becomes reluctantly drawn into a world of violence in order to protect the people he cares about.
There are also key scenes set in barber shops. In The Shootist, there is a humorous sequence in which Wayne's character humiliates a vulture-like undertaker played by John Carradine. In Gran Torino, the barber (John Carroll Lynch) is a friend of Walt's who helps him "initiate" young Thao into the world of real men by hurling good-natured, filthy ethnic insults at one another.
Finally, in The Shootist, the distressed Wayne character gets some solace and advice from a sympathetic doctor (James Stewart). In Gran Torino, it's a young priest (an excellent Christopher Carley) who manages to finally break through to Walt Kowalski.
The most obvious parallel to The Shootist is that it afforded John Wayne perhaps his greatest performance in the last movie he ever made. Fortunately, Eastwood is in able enough shape to continue directing films, but there is a real chance this might be his last acting role. If not, it will be hard to top. He magnificently manages to convey the image of an every day working stiff - and I knew he had succeeded when it didn't look silly or pretentious to see Clint Eastwood mowing a lawn (with a push mower, yet!). The film succeeds beautifully on all levels and puts to shame the over-produced, over-budgeted hokum coming out of most studios. Working mean and lean with members of his fabled Malpaso Productions, Eastwood manages to get superb performances from his entire cast. The ending is emotionally riveting, even when it takes a surprising turn. To top it off, Eastwood also wrote the haunting title song and croaks out part of it as well. Back in the early 1980s I wrote a book called The Films of Clint Eastwood. I remember my editor being astounded at its success. He said to me, "But you treated him like he was some kind of world-class filmmaker". I'd like to find that editor today and take him to a screening of Gran Torino to see his response. I'm not one for saying "I told you so" but in this case, it would be merited.- Lee Pfeiffer